


March Winds & April Showers

by hotchoco195



Series: Bad Weather [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Shameless Smut, Shower Sex, Sociopathic stories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 15:06:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4881427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotchoco195/pseuds/hotchoco195
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unashamed PWP of our boys getting frisky in the morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	March Winds & April Showers

India had an electrifying effect on Sebastian; he bounced around like a hyperactive child generally annoying the crap out of Jim, and disappeared on his days off with a rifle and a glint in his eye. Jim, not surprisingly, spent most mornings wondering if he could afford to murder the assassin. But the muggy heat meant Sherlock had gone back to never wearing a shirt, and the sight of his pale chest cheered the Irishman up enough to leave his sniper alone.

The house had been some Independence-era general’s country hideaway, and a rajah’s hunting lodge before that. It was full of thick columns and deep alcoves, the walls and floors contrasting stone, the rooms lined with colourful carpets and white-shuttered windows. The furniture filled the air with its woody scent on warm afternoons, and the once-sprawling emerald lawn had been reclaimed by the jungle until the trees surrounded them like a living wall. There was a pond with some lacklustre vegetation, and an old stables now used for Jim’s classic Rolls Royce, and a turret that climbed above the canopies and gave a view of the mountains beyond.

Jim had abandoned any pretence at keeping his workspace for himself, setting up Sherlock’s desk next to his own. They still maintained separate bedrooms, because genius sociopaths with terrible sleep cycles needed _some_ alone time, but since they always shared a bed after sex or nightmares they slept together more than apart anyway. Jim would never admit he preferred having Sherlock there on his bad nights, even though they both knew it by now; he had stopped trying to define any of his feelings towards the other man, acknowledging he’d probably never understand them. But neither would Sherlock, so at least he wasn’t the only one making it up as they went along, and for once in his life he didn’t mind not having the answers.

*****

Jim leaned back under the spray, suds running down his shoulders and swirling into the drain. He scrubbed a hand through his hair to rinse out the last of the shampoo, humming lightly under his breath. There was a sudden draught, and the mastermind opened his eyes a crack.

“I wasn’t sure you were awake, Sherly.”

The brunette shrugged, wetting his hands and slicking his curls back off his face. “I got hot, and you weren’t there.”

Jim chuckled, tapping a thumb against Sherlock’s pouty lower lip. “I would have invited you if you hadn’t been completely cocooned in the sheets. Have you considered that might have been a contributing factor to your overheating?”

“Probably.”

Moriarty moved aside so Sherlock could get some of the water, frowning as the former detective tilted forward to fit under the showerhead. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“No. I usually drape myself over the bed more during those,” Sherlock pointed out, “I think it may have been a secret ploy to get you naked.”

Jim laughed. “Oh honey, you don’t have to try so hard if that’s what you’re after. One flutter of those lashes and I’m firmly on your leash.”

“I never said it was a clever plan.” he smiled.

“Unlike your others.”

Sherlock’s mouth twitched, eyes flicking over Jim. He took a step closer, sliding his arms around the criminal. “It worked, at any rate.”

 He arched a brow, lips pursing as Sherlock brushed his teeth against Jim’s neck. “Are we feeling lively this morning?”

The other man pulled back, eyes bright and intense for a moment as he studied Jim. Then with a growl Sherlock pushed him back against the tiles, hands pinning his wrists to the wall. His lips sought Moriarty’s, their mouths clashing as his thumbs smoothed small circles over Jim’s skin. Sherlock broke the kiss, cheek pressed against the criminal’s.

“Tell me a story, James.”

He closed his hands over the Irishman’s hips and slid down to his knees, looking up through those dark lashes as his fingers pinched in just a little.

Moriarty tilted his head out of the water, eyes locked on the blue ones staring at him. “Once upon a time, there was a charming, gorgeous young genius called Jimmy.”

Sherlock swirled his tongue over Jim’s slightly swollen head, closing his lips around it with a firm suck. The Irishman bit back a groan, fingers curling in the taller man’s hair.

“Jimmy was ever so clever and ever so bored, so he started a business where people would bring him puzzles to solve.”

He bobbed his head, taking Jim into his mouth but only just, pulling back as soon as he passed the tip. Jim hooked his hand behind Sherlock’s neck, caressing the taut muscles.

“One day, some people brought him their problem. They were a particularly nasty gang called The Freemen, and most of their members were sentenced to the death penalty for various misdeeds. The survivors had served an awfully long time in a dingy Illinois prison, waiting to get their revenge on the detective who put them th-ere!”

 

Sherlock swallowed him to the root and jerked back just as quickly, tongue lathering over Jim’s head in a wet, slippery mess. The shorter man growled, biting his cheek as his gaze turned fierce and hungry. The former detective smiled around his cock, the smug grin he got when he thought he was being clever. Jim was tempted to just grab him by the nape of the neck and fuck those pert lips, but he knew Sherlock needed to be the one in control. He ground the flat of his fist against the tiles instead, panting a little as Sherlock’s tongue flicked at the ridge under his shaft.

“He’d changed his name and fled the country to escape them, but he couldn’t escape clever young Jimmy.”

His prick slid out of Sherlock’s mouth with a wet pop. “He sounds awfully foolish.”

“The silliest, my sweet,” Jim smiled, twitching a thumb along the other man’s jaw, “You going to be a good boy for Daddy while he finishes your story?”

“I don’t think you ever want me to be _good_.”

“No, not particularly. Still…” he tapped his thumb against Sherlock’s chin expectantly.

Holmes rolled his eyes but lunged onto Jim’s cock, taking him deep enough to feel the curves of the brunette’s throat against his weeping head. Jim cursed colourfully, pressing his shoulders back into the wall as he thrust his hips forward. He moaned, the sound turning into a chuckle as Sherlock paused and raised a brow impatiently.

“Now unfortunately the Freemen got impatient, and decided to try a little personal payback. But, stupid as they were, Detective Edwards managed to get the jump on their hitman and empty both barrels of a sawn-off shotgun in his face.”

Sherlock gave an interested hum that sent a jolt up Jim’s spine, hollowing out his cheeks as he started moving again. The water flowed down Jim’s chest and over the other man’s face, droplets glistening in his lashes like diamonds. His cheeks were pink from the heat and the exertion, and Jim thought he was the most gorgeous thing on two legs. He wanted to take him in the middle of the street just so everyone could see how lucky the criminal was, and he wanted to keep this secret and private and just for him.

“At which point he tried to pretend it was his gooey corpse in the hopes of throwing them off, and skipped the country with his wife. But Jimmy wasn’t having that.”

Sherlock sped up, fingers digging into Jim’s thighs for leverage as he sucked and licked and swallowed, the slurping obscenely loud in the small space. His hair was plastered to his head, only drawing more attention to the sharp angle of his cheekbones. Sherlock twisted to rub the soft flesh against the tip of Jim’s cock and the Irishman yelped, biting a knuckle hard enough to hurt.

“So the fantastic – uh - young genius made Detective Edwards – oh Sherly - disappear at the Johannesburg airport, and everybody lived – ungh - happily ever after. Well, not everyone.”

Sherlock looked up and caught his eye, Jim’s chest heaving as his muscles got tighter and tighter. The ex-detective gave a tiny nod and the genius didn’t hesitate, plunging himself in Sherlock’s mouth with a snarl, holding his head still as his hips snapped back and forth. The brunette gave a garbled cough and Jim cried out, seizing his shoulders as he came with a loud, throaty groan that tapered off into a sigh as he went limp, falling back under the water.

 

Sherlock wiped a hand across his jaw, the skin still slick and shiny with a mixture of spit and cum. Jim closed his eyes and took a second to enjoy the loose, relaxed feeling that permeated his whole body, and when he opened them again there was a dangerous glint in his gaze.

“ _Such_ a good boy for Daddy.”

He pounced on the taller man, dropping to his knees with a hand on Sherlock’s chest possessively. The other one closed around his bobbing erection as Jim leaned in for a kiss, Sherlock gasping against his mouth as he circled his thumb around the genius’ foreskin.

“Tell me how you made him disappear.” He panted out.

“You want to know, hmm?” Jim rested his cheek against the ex-detective’s, lips brushing his earlobe as his hand kept working Sherlock’s shaft, “I paid off a flight attendant to spike his pre-landing drink with a little something that ensured a hurried trip to the airport bathroom. My assassin was dressed as a janitor; he snuck up behind Mr Edwards and delivered the execution by lethal injection. Then he stowed the body in the bottom of his cleaner’s cart and wheeled him right out.”

“Brilliant.” Sherlock bit his lip, jerking up into Jim’s grip.

“I’m good at everything, honey.”

“Better with me though.” Holmes leered.

“Oh yes, darlin’,” Jim nipped at his ear, “Much better.”

He closed his other hand around Sherlock’s balls, the skin tightly wrinkled to his touch. Jim squeezed and the brunette came with a whimper, seed shooting over both of them in ragged, desperate spurts. Jim ran his hand under the water, raising it to cup Sherlock’s face as the other man flopped back with his mouth open slightly, breath shuddery and weak.

“You’re an absolute treasure, Sherly.”

“You tell the best stories.”

“Come on – let’s get you cleaned up before you cause a scandal.”

Sherlock smirked as he let the Irishman help him up. “I thought you liked scandals.”

“All in good time, darlin’ – all in good time.”


End file.
